A Distinct Lack of Frolicking
by OceanFae
Summary: Nancy was dead. Kind of. She's decomposing, sure, but its the boredom thats really killing her.
1. She's Only Mostly Dead

Authors Note: Well, hey! I suppose this is an odd story. Its just my take on what happened a little during and after Nancy's death in the third movie. Its going to be multi-chapter, I think. Its a bit funny, a bit dark, and a bit crazy. But it was fun as hell to write!

Disclamer: I dont own Freddy or Nancy, but I own Figment. I'm calling him Francy in my head. He (and she) doesn't like it.

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Nancy clicked her well manicured nails on a rusty metal bar in the boiler room.

She was dead. _Click click click._

Well, scratch that. She wasn't _totally_ dead. Not really. She could still move and talk and speak and—she paused for a moment to look down at the four gaping holes in her stomach, still sticky and festering—Okay, so she was mostly dead, but still alive in the dream world.

_Click click click._

She had been sitting and thinking for a very long time, due to the fact that she was very bored and very alone. The boiler room was cold. She was dead, and in a pink sweater of all things. And she couldn't figure out for the life (er, un-life) of her why she was _here_ instead of frolicking away in a field of _beautiful flowers_ goddamnit.

_Click click click._

She sighed and crossed her arms, resting her chin on the metal bar and swinging her legs freely below the catwalk. She had to admit to herself that there were quite a few coincidences prefaced her death. She didn't want to think of them at the time, because thinking of them would make her think of _him_, and that wouldn't have been sane at all. Her time in school had taught her that, that she was a _physiatrist_ now and thinking silly things like that would put her on the other side of the glass. She didn't need any paranoia.

But it was all very odd.

She had needed an apartment near Westin Hills, and set out her search with bright eyes. And caution. She really didn't like to be near Springwood. There were things she missed about her childhood, like her friends and her mother, but living there was always like living in a bubble. Everything held that eerie, too perfect quality that she found other cities were blissfully void of. But work was work, and she could help here. She knew she could.

There was only one apartment complex on the west side of Springwood, tucked nicely between a hardware store and a café. The Shady Elms Apartment complex was nice and clean, with big windows and a washer and dryer unit in every room. She rented apartment 14.

She really didn't notice anything odd. Really.

She didn't even blink when her mailbox lock broke and she had to use the empty one for room 28. Sure, she frowned slightly when she saw the previous owners curtains, a hideous striped pattern clashing with the pale cream walls, but she threw the red and green nightmares away and was done with it. She put it _out of her mind._

She knew her first day on the job that she should've stayed out of Springwood. The poor girl was horrified, tear stained and shaking with the scalpel in her hand. She finished the rhyme with ease, wondering where it came from, because she thought she had put it all out of her mind for good.

Things began to get quite unhealthy after that.

At first, her mind was cold to the fact that he was back. It didn't sink in. Not even when she was telling Neil that the rhyme was to keep the boogeyman away, all the while thinking, roaring, it doesn't keep him away, _it lets him in._

When she went home, she noticed something was off in her mind. Everything seemed a little darker. A tint creepier. She ignored it. It was after she fixed herself some spaghetti and sat down to think of a strategy that she realized that the voice in the back of her head, the one that had been kicking up a fuss all day, didn't sound so much like her anymore.

It sounded like him.

Hell, when she thought about it, she realized that he was sitting clear as day across from her, watching her eat spaghetti. His eyes followed it as it fell out of her mouth and onto her plate.

"You know it's true."

When he spoke, he only spoke in her head, and it was a comfort to realize that he sounded like her inner voice, though manlier and rougher. She shook her head, but he remained. He was different than she remembered. Duller, she supposed. Cleaner, less insane. He didn't seem to want to kill her, and for that she was grateful. He was just a figment.

"You're crazy. Nuts. Bonkers." He twirled a claw at the side of his head.

"No I'm not. I'm… stressed." She spoke aloud, then realized that she didn't need to, because he wasn't real. She took her dishes to the sink and rinsed them, then hopped on the countertop to do some thinking. He just watched.

"If you're back, then they need to know about you. Right? That's safest."

He nodded, fingering his hat. "I suppose. But don't you need to stop me?"

She frowned, remembering her failed attempt. She knew she was dreaming that night, just as she knew her mother had died and she wasn't coming back, and the sky was a little too bright outside to be real. When the car went crazy, and her friends decomposed before her eyes, she realized that he wasn't really going to go away. Not completely. But he was weak, because their fingernails didn't cut, and though Glen bit, she awoke to clean sheets and the smallest of scratches.

"I did that. I don't need to stop you, I just need to…" She hopped off the counter and grabbed her purse, pulling out the files on the children she would be monitoring. He leaned over them with slight interest, tapping his claws on the table. They made no sound.

"Look. Yeah." She pressed her lips together and furrowed her brow, fanning all the files out, eyes searching for consistencies. She tugged on her solitary stripe of grey hair, and ignored the scarred figment across from her. He seemed content to sit and watch, every once and a while looking down at the papers with interest. She started when he clicked a sharp metal claw on the home address of one of the patients.

1426 Elm.

She looked at the next one.

1413 Elm.

And the next. 1429 Elm. That was the link, and they were in serious trouble.

She rifled through her bag and pulled out her bottle of Hypnocil, shaking one into her hand. The figment watched as she washed it down with a glass of juice.

"You're supposed to kill me." His voice was slightly less gravely, his eyes slightly more blue.

She nodded at him, or rather, at herself, and ran her hand over her eyes. This wasn't good. She was going crazy, and she really needed to keep focused if she was going to help these kids. She turned away from the figment, _because if she said his name then she really would go crazy,_ and strolled into her bedroom, and though he was sprawled on her bed, she took off her pants and crawled under the covers. He held no weight, and when she opened her eyes again, it was morning.

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Well? What do you think? I've got three other chapters written. I'll upload soon. :D Review!


	2. But What About the Beans?

Authors Note: I suppose this is the next day. Starts out where Kristin pulls Nancy into her dream for the first time. Cheers, all!

Disclamer: Must we really do this? Do you think I _want_ to own Krueger? Please.

* * *

She didn't know what the hell happened. She had been sitting there, and suddenly she was in her old house, or a mockery of it. She was awake, and everything moved so quickly, because one moment she was pulling Kristen out of a worms mouth, and the next she was looking into the eye of the asshole that killed her mom.

He wasn't very happy with her, it seemed.

"_You_." His voice was deep and gravely, and nothing at all like her figment, which was a blessing, she supposed.

"Oh my god." She had quite a few thoughts running through her head at that moment, the smallest of them being _but he can't kill me because I left the crock pot on, my beans will burn,_ and she screamed run faster than she thought her mouth could move.

And then they were awake, and she learned things so quickly in the next few days. She saw the figment quite a lot, and he shifted between being mostly himself and mainly her, and pointed things out to keep her in order.

She wasn't going crazy. She really wasn't.

When she was scarred, she kept calm. She was proud of the kids, though they seemed to be dying off rather rapidly. They wanted to survive. They were strong, and she loved them for it. Kristen had a wonderful gift, though she was hesitant to use it, and before she knew it they were in the dream realm, and they were lost.

To each their own, but she never found her dream power. She supposed it was the ability to look Freddy in the eye without maiming him, though she wanted to.

She really thought she was going to die in the hall of mirrors. He was choking her, rough fabric and hot skin burning her throat. His slick yet sandpaper like tongue found its way up the side of her face, and though she clawed and pulled, she couldn't struggle free. She was gasping for air.

Then they were out, Joey's scream destroying the mirrors. She thought they were free. It really seemed like it.

When her father showed up, she could feel something off. With a glance to the side, she saw her inner voice, looking more like her then like Freddy, skin showing very little burns and eyes burning blue, clicking her/his claws against the rim of their hat, frowning at her father. Her eyes moved back to him, and he said the most wonderful things that she had wanted to hear.

She knew he was dead, too. And it looked just like him. And in her sadness and forgiveness, she hugged him.

The blades hurt like a bitch.

She had never felt anything quite like it, and his putrid breath was breathing on her face.

"Die, bitch!"

She screamed, because it hurt goddamnit, and it wasn't supposed to end like this. She was supposed to kill him, she really was. She was pissed, and she was dying as he flung her to the floor like nothing. Her thoughts were moving too fast, and her figment stood over her as the real Freddy moved towards her friend.

He looked angry, more like Krueger than herself now, and he grabbed her hand and put it to her gushing stomach, and hissed '_pressure'._

So she stumbled up, and through blurry eyes grabbed the fuckers claws and rammed them into his stomach, inwardly crowing _HURTS, DON'T IT?_

Then she died.

It wasn't a big affair. No tunnel, no light. She just sort of slipped from her body to a room that was a lot like her old one, and she sat on the bed, waiting for something.

And she cried, because she thought she could save them. But she couldn't.

"Stop that."

She jerked her head upwards, and looked at what looked to be a younger version of herself, but with eyes that seemed electric blue and less blood gushing from her t-shirt.

"Why?"

"Because you've somewhere to be, and we're not going like that." Her voice sounded like many different voices at once, and she knew them all.

"Mom? Tina? Guys?" More tears leaked out of her eyes, dropping onto her bloodstained shirt and spreading the dark red like ink.

"You, too, you know." Her mirror image smiled sadly, and yanked on her grey streak. "So stop blubbering. We've got to go."

"Where are we going?"

The voices looked at her like she was silly, and she supposed she was, and she thought to herself, _well duh, Nancy, it's time to go to heaven. _So, she followed them out the door.

She didn't wind up in Heaven. No frolicking for her.

When she exited the door, she bumped into the back of her younger self, and it kind of faded into her. Simple, really. Tingly. But she kept walking, hoping that the darkness of the hallway would end soon. It didn't.

She had the odd feeling that she was stepping into jello, or something equally uneven. Her world tilted and she threw out her hand to steady herself against the wall, but the wall was gone. She felt as if she were falling through a spider web for a slim moment, and then her feat clinked onto the metal surface of a catwalk.

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Woo! I moved kind of fast paced through the movie stuff, because you've already seen it. Plus, I imagine that it really did go by rather quickly for Nancy, just like time goes by for us. Well, watcha think of the second chapter? Tell me in a review!


	3. In Which Nancy Isn't Listening

Authors Note: Aaaand here's chapter three. Working on chapter five now. I hope you enjoy!

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For the first hour, she was furious. She screamed and threw whatever objects that weren't bolted to the floor. She took a metal bar to a boiler until the blood from her wound pooled so heavily below her that she slipped and fell on her ass. She roared at Krueger, at God, and at the Forces that Run the Joint to fix this, because she was good and she _wasn't supposed to be here._

When it appeared that there was absolutely no one else there but herself, she cried.

It was a while before she got up the nerve to walk around.

She explored the boiler room, climbed ladders, and balanced herself on a thin rusting bar like a gymnast. She sang songs and thought aloud just to hear something besides the occasional click of a cold furnace.

On one occasion, she found what she dubbed 'Freddy's Hidey Hole'. It was a workbench, with little tools and burnt pieces of paper. The only way she knew it to be his was the solitary metal claw she found, with a little hole drilled at the end. It was slightly dull, and obviously too tiny to fit his glove. She stuck it in her pocket.

There was a bed, too, but she didn't look at it too closely. It smelled like ass.

She had been there far too long. It seemed like weeks, but who knew in this place. There were no windows. It was just cold, dark, and blue light all at the same time.

She was beginning to wish for any sort of company, even if it was just a figment of her imagination. But she couldn't seem to think hard enough to let that happen, and she couldn't figure out how she didn't notice the fact that she was going slowly crazy before she died.

Life's funny that way, she supposed.

_Click click click._ Her fingernails were at it again. She sighed and closed her eyes.

Somewhere in the boiler room, a furnace flickered to life.

She cracked open one eye and looked at her shoes. She kicked a flake of mud off.

The fire crackled, setting flame to the gas, traveling up the pipe. It was quiet. A small, solitary glowing flame.

"I don't see the point in all this." She spoke to no one, but it sounded good to hear a voice.

"It's okay. We don't either." Her head whipped to the side and she smiled broadly. Even if it was just a silly figment of her imagination, she was never happier to be insane. The man smiled with rotting teeth, but her blue eyes looked out from under the edge of his fedora. He kicked his legs in time with hers.

"Why do we have to be here, do you think?" She leaned her head against the framework.

He smiled a nasty smile at her. "You still need to kill me, I think." His voice was mainly hers, but he spoke out loud, and it was good to hear.

"To tell you the truth, I'm starting to like the sound of that. He killed me, after all. Er. Sort of." She looked down at herself again, fingering the blood around her wounds. It seemed to be perpetually sticky in this place. She wiped it on her pants.

"You look like shit."

She snorted. "Thanks." She noticed that her skin was turning paler. She could only guess what her face looked like. There were no mirrors in the place.

"You're decomposing."

She turned, horrified. "Ew!" They just smirked at her, revealing yellowing teeth. They seemed less rotted then before. She laid her head back down.

The flame had spread to another boiler, switching it on with a whirr. The soft glow of the flames cut into the blue tinted light. Suddenly, a small scraping noise could be heard. If you were listening.

"I wish I could sleep. Or eat, or something. You know." She sounded pathetic even to her ears. She took the small blade out of her pocket and fiddled with it. Her figment clicked their finger-blades on the metal, watching her with little interest.

She accidently cut her thumb, and felt her eyes mist up when it didn't hurt all that much. It didn't bleed much, either. It seemed reluctant. She stuck it in her mouth with a pout.

The entire east end of the boiler room was clicking on, humming slowly to life. The sound of screws dropping onto a wooden surface was audible, if you were only listening for it. The soft, rough hum of a man hard at work was there, if you were paying attention.

Nancy shifted her position on the metal grates. She thought she heard something in the distance. It was soft, but… no, nothing. Just blue light and the proof that she was crazy sitting next to her.

"I am crazy, aren't I? I mean, its not just stress. Or repressed memories. That's what it should be." She spoke to herself and to him, but it made no difference.

"You're dead. No difference." He waved his claw, and his eyes grew darker. He tapped the metal.

_Clink clink clink._

She shrugged and let her fingers tap.

_Click click click._

She laughed at the sadness of it all.

Somewhere in the boiler room, Freddy Krueger's head snapped up. He was listening. He grabbed his hat, and with a few adjustments to his glove, went in search of the noise.

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Woo! The next chapter will feature some real Krueger! And Figment, for what its worth. Review, please!


	4. Let Me Just Poke Your Open Wound

Authors Note: And we're on to chapter four! Have fun guys!

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Nancy crossed her arms and laid her head on them, staring out into the mass of shadows that was the boiler room. Every so often she would start up a conversation with her figment, who would shift between being mostly her and somewhat him, and mainly him with a little of her. This was defiantly not healthy, but what could she expect, she was dead.

She tapped the metal claw on the grate, babbling on about her teacher Mr. Kunkle in grad school, who was vicious and pompous, while her figment quipped back in his gravely way about how she should have dropped the class while she had a chance, or at least hit the man.

She really didn't notice when he walked up behind her.

"What the _fuck_ are _you_ doing here?"

She tossed her head up like she had been scalded, slamming it into a bar, and untangled herself from the catwalk, spinning around as quickly as she could.

She really didn't mean to smile. It was very conflicting. She was scarred, yes, but she hadn't heard anyone's voice (besides her own and her sort of own) in months and she was _so bored,_ and she thought she was in hell because she was always afraid of being alone forever.

He was stabbing her before she even noticed he moved. It didn't hurt much. She looked at her figment. "Well, I guess we are here for a reason," she said to it before fluttering out of consciousness.

Freddy let her collapse on the ground, knowing full well she wasn't dead. He lifted up her shirt to look at the wounds, fingering the previous ones. They were slightly crusted at the edges, but deep red blood and puss met his fingertips. His newest marks didn't bleed quite so readily, much to his disdain. This bitch really wouldn't die.

He lifted his head and looked around for someone else. He had walked up behind the bitch silently, only to find her pattering away to thin air. He wasn't one to judge, but the broad was fucking nuts.

And she was waking up.

She opened her eyes and looked at him for a moment.

"You're not my figment." She sounded slightly confused, then lifted her hand to try to pry away his and from her throat. She didn't need to breath, not really, but it was quite hard to talk.

"What are you doing here, bitch?" He growled at her, narrowing his eyes. His blades sissored together with tiny _shinks_.

Her fingernails cut at his hand, while she rasped "Not quite sure, asshole." He let her go and she sat up.

She poked the new holes in her body and turned to her left, where her figment, which was now mostly him and mainly herself, stood anxiously, twitching his blades together. Electric blue eyes blazed.

"I'm okay, don't you worry." She said, looking at them.

"_What_?" Freddy snarled, putting blades to her throat.

She looked at him, slightly annoyed. She wondered vaguely where all her fear went.

"Not you, Krueger."

"I'm the only one here, _bitch_."

She glanced at her figment, who was hovering near her like a protective dog, then turned to Freddy.

"Not really."

He cut her throat slightly, but it didn't bleed right. Her face scrunched up due to his nearness. She was really insane, he thought. And he wasn't strong enough to kill her, because she was already dead. And she was haunting him. The fucking nerve.

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This ones a bit short, but the next ones longer. Review, please!


	5. Gird Your Loins, Nancy's Back

Authors Note: Well, this was fun. Hope you like this chapter!

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The sheer closeness of Freddy's face made her want to gag. And she thought his bed smelled like ass. She made a face as his blades dug into her throat, and decided that now would be an excellent time for her knee to make introductions with his groin.

They made fast friends.

Freddy made a strangled noise and released her, grabbing at his crotch. She stood quickly, rubbing at her neck. Figment made a growl of approval and smiled, and their teeth were white and shiny.

"You go girl." He said with her voice, and blue eyes twinkled merrily.

"Thanks." She smiled at him, and wondered how long it would take before she went totally insane. It felt as if something was gone from her body, like the thing that drove her was missing. It was outside her, somehow, and being around the figment brought it back, just a little at a time.

"I _didn't say anything_, you whore!" Krueger groaned from the ground, looking at her with fire in his eyes. She hated that look. Her mother had given her that look once. Her friends. Her father. It said, _you're crazy_ and she hated it like she hated him, and she was just remembering how much she hated that bastard when she kicked him in the stomach.

Then she kicked him again.

And once more for good measure.

Suddenly, he wasn't just lying there surprised anymore. He was fighting back as she flailed at him, legs and arms flying, not caring if she was doing any damage at all. He grabbed her sweater and slammed her against the railing, wringing his hands through her hair and ripping, and she was punching and howling like an alley cat. She threw herself forward, causing the two of them to collapse and roll, and when he attempted to put his tongue in her mouth (as was inevitable in that situation, and she knew this well) she bit down as hard as she could, and spit out the blood.

They both howled profanities at the other, ripping and tearing and slamming each other into boilers until Nancy saw black butterflies in her vision, and she slowly lost consciousness, but not before thinking, _ah, that's where I've been all this time._

Nancy awoke alone.

Well, sort of. Figment was sitting at her feet, studying her with her own eyes.

Nancy sighed and covered her eyes, wiping away the dirt and grime collected there. Her hand came back sticky and dark, so she took off her sweater to clean her face.

"Were were you at?" she mumbled at him, her brain fuzzy with not quite pains and the relief of pent up anger.

"Helping you."

She looked up, surprised. "Was that you?" She recalled a surge of anger, of petulance, and that feeling that she had found herself after a long time. She frowned at him.

"I'm not sure I understand. But that's okay." She slipped into calm, and looked around. The light in this part of the boiler room was a blue as the day she died, though she could hear fires raging in the background. She wiped her face once more and put her sweater back on, scowling at the bloodstains. Well, at least it wouldn't be pink forever.

"Do I look alright?" She asked, knowing full well she didn't and that her figment would tell her hell no, but she didn't care much.

"Vanity." He wiggled a claw at her, making a tsk noise.

"Shut up." Her mouth tasted funny, so she spit. Blood. "Remind me not to do that again," she muttered, though knowing her self control only went so far when it came to being angry at Krueger.

She looked at her arms, which were covered in scratches. At least she wouldn't bruise, being a corpse and all. Or bleed all that much. Maybe she would revert back into her non meat tenderized self when she went to sleep, like those vampires in that movie she loved as a kid. Could she even sleep here?

She stared forward for a very long time, not even noticing when her figment was suddenly gone and she was alone. She lay down on the concrete floor, wondering briefly when their fight had taken them downstairs. She stretched out her legs, and took off her shoes. She wiggled her toes and fingers, counting slowly down from one hundred. She closed her eyes and thought of fields of flowers, with bouncing sheep and shining suns. She frowned.

"That aint gonna work, bitch."

She opened her eyes rapidly and let out a yelp to find Freddy standing nearly two feet away from her.

"You fall asleep here, you're just gonna wind right the hell back here. Give it up."

"The fuck? But _why?"_ she yelled at the ceiling, demanding answers.

He grinned at her, all rotting teeth and malice. "Don't ask me. I just work here." She closed her eyes again. He crouched down next to her.

"If I let you stab me again will you _go away?_" She growled, because his presence in her nap time was not appreciated. She was going to sleep even if her life (or un-life) depended on it.

"Depends on what I'm stabbing you with." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and she stuck out her tongue and made a gagging sound.

"Guh-ross."

"Don't knock it till ya tried it, bitch."

"Why are you _here, _Krueger? Go away." She wouldn't open her eyes. She really wouldn't. She balled up her fists and fiercely ignored the fact that she could hear the voices in her head, gravely and low, telling her to get up and fight _because that's what she's here for_, because if he's fighting her he's not killing someone else.

"Shut up, figment, I'm not listening," she muttered, knowing full well that Krueger was sneering at her.

"_I'm not a figment_, Nancy." She really hated the way he said her name, like he owned it, and she sneered right back at him.

"For the last time, _does it seem like I'm talking to you, asshole?"_

And with that, she slammed her own head into the concrete to get some peace and quiet. _Luckily I'm dead, _she thought before she faded out, _or this would cause serious brain damage._

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Well? What did you think? Review, please!


	6. Who Knew Intestines Were That Sturdy

Authors Note: I have so much love for this chapter. Good luck.

* * *

Freddy prodded her head with a clawed finger.

_Poke._

He lifted it by the hair and looked at the matted strands of hair, nearly black from her sticky dead blood. He dropped it with a thud. "Well, that can't be good."

He couldn't blame her, really. He had done the same thing a few times, in the first few weeks of being here. But he soon found better distractions for his time. _Hmmhmm, distractions._ He twitched his claws at the thought. Speaking of which, it was near time to start up the old business again. Couldn't let the little brats think they were safe from old Freddy for too long, could he? Oh no.

But what to do with his _dear Nancy_?

He smiled. He knew of a perfect way for her to wake up.

He smiled a rotten, gleeful smile. "_Let's hang_."

* * *

Nancy awoke to blood dripping into her nostrils. She snorted and spit, and slowly opened her eyes.

She was upside down.

She looked up at her ankles, which were tied to the bars of a cat walk, three stories up.

"KRUEGER!" She barked, trying to pull herself up to reach her feet. She was in the part of the boiler room that was functional, it seemed, as she wiped the heated blood off her cheeks to keep it from dripping into her eyes. She could just barely reach her ankles with her fingertips. She had _barely_ brushed the rope, _oh I hope that's rope and not intestines, ewww,_ when a clawed hand appeared out of nowhere and she yelped and dropped.

She swung there, flailing her arms, as her figment looked down at her curiously.

"I told you you needed to kill him."

She scowled at him. "Could you lend a hand, _pleas_e?"

"Couldn't if I wanted to." He replied with her voice, crossing his arms. His skin was smoother, and his face looked more like her own that it should.

"Well damn." She hung there limply for a moment, wondering which course of action to take, while a piece of her mind asked her, _what's the point?_ She felt so empty, sometimes. Like a puzzle missing the pieces that made the picture whole.

Her figment tapped on her foot with his claw, calling her attention back to the matter at hand. She shook off her melancholy, and got an idea. She pulled out the claw that she kept in her pocket.

It took a few tries, but after much swinging and sawing, the ropes (_intestines oh lord they were intestines_) were thin enough to rip through and she hooked one arm around the metal bar that she was tethered to. Now if she could just pull herself up…

Nancy stopped when a scream ripped through the humming silence of the boiler room.

"Son of a bitch!" She struggled to get up faster, to help, and hooked her fingers through the holes of the catwalk, straining her arms. She didn't even stop to think where her figment had wandered off to, because she was sprinting down stairs and over bars, searching for the source of the scream.

* * *

Freddy was on the hunt. It was practice, really, for the big game ahead, but he needed his strength and damn was it fun. The girl couldn't have been more than fourteen, stumbling through into his dream world with only the slightest suggestion.

He followed the scent of her fear like a hound.

* * *

Nancy found her wandering through the hottest part of the boiler room, looking wild eyed and deathly pale.

"Are you alright?" Nancy used her calmest, most professional voice. It fell on deaf ears.

"Hey," she touched the girls shoulder, but the blond teen only tugged her arms around her, shivering, and looked around.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice cracking. Her eyes passed right over Nancy.

"Can't you see me?" Nancy began to panic, a small, fluttery feeling. She touched the girls shoulder and gripped down as the screech of metal claws pierced the air.

"Hey, wake up! Wake up!" she began to panic in earnest, glancing around for any sign of movement. It was no use. He was hidden.

She tugged on the girls arm, but the girl only hissed a little and spun away. "Hello?"

Nancy reached out to grab her again when she felt the hand grip into her hair. Freddy yanked her back and slammed her into the pipes.

"Fuck off, bitch, this one's mine!" He growled at her, and the blonde girl spun around and screeched in terror. Nancy grabbed onto him and pushed him backwards as hard as she could, then did the only thing that came to mind. She ran forward and tackled the blond girl.

The force of her impact and the icy chill it brought forced the girl awake, and she dissipated through Nancy's arms as they fell, and she landed face first into the hard concrete.

She rolled and smiled, feeling as if she had done something important. Freddy's boots made heavy thuds as he walked over to her grinning form.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Going for a refreshing stroll. How about you?"

"I'm going to kill you. _Slowly._" His voice grated out the words.

She tilted her head. "Too late. Already dead." She frowned, suddenly. "Hey, why couldn't she see me?"

"The fuck if I know, bitch!"

She began to stand, grabbing at a bar to pull herself up.

"Where do you think you're going?"

She blinked at him, and started walking. "To my side."

"_Your side?" _he exclaimed, looking after her with disbelief.

"Yeah. My side of the boiler room."

"You have no side! It's all MY SIDE!" he roared, chasing after her.

She looked sideways at him, putting her hand to her stomach wounds. They oozed blood onto her hand and she grimaced. She was running out of places to wipe things on.

"No, _my_ side's not hot as fuck. _My_ side doesn't have _you_ in it. Now leave me alone." She noticed that she was strangely calm, suddenly, and that she felt listless. Empty. She turned a corner, Freddy still on her tail.

"Damnit, bitch, this aint your home!" he groused, twitching his claws in agitation.

Figment stood in the hallway before her, and she smiled.

"Hey. I got her." She waved at him, and Freddy rolled his eyes.

"You're fucking _nuts,_ whore."

She looked at him incredulously, and laughed a slightly insane laugh. "And you're not?"

* * *

Well, what do you think? Please review!


	7. In Which Nancy Could Use a Bandaid

Authors Note: I dont have quite as much love for this chapter as I did the last chapter, but I still like it. Good luck.

* * *

Freddy, who usually considered himself a very patient man, was getting very, very agitated. He strode alongside Nancy silently, listening to her blabber on to thin air, all the while _ignoring him. _He couldn't understand why she was _here,_ or more importantly _what the fuck she was on._

"Yeah? Well, at least I'm visible, you jack ass."

She turned her head to the side, glaring at a boiler. Freddy scowled. He killed her. _He killed her._ He should've gotten her soul, like all the others. He snarled. But he didn't, because he got killed, and now she was here, in _his world,_ saving _his piggy's_ from mutilation.

It wasn't _fair._

"_What do you mean,_ I'm dripping everywhere?" Nancy exclaimed, threading her hand into her hair and looking down. The heat from the furnaces had caused her blood to drip heavily onto the concrete surface. "Hell." She cursed, mainly to herself. She looked back up.

"Where'd you— Hey!" she screamed, because she suddenly had quite a few very sharp claws at her neck, and she was being pushed into a very hot metal surface.

"I'm only gonna say this once, _bitch_. Go back to where ever the fuck it is you came from, cause you're not stayin here_."_ He growled at her, glaring and baring his teeth.

She narrowed her eyes and pushed him. "I can't go back, you jackass! You killed me!"

He tightened his blades. "Then go to heaven or something, bitch!" She pushed him again, grabbing at his clawed hand.

"I _tried that! _I got put here!" She began to thrash, looking around for Figment, then noticing that the voices in her head were playing up again, each trying to say something different. They were tumbling like a roller coaster, like waves, roaring and crashing, and it was so loud she let go of Freddy and put her hands to her temples, closing her eyes.

"Shut up, shut up!" She ripped away from him, and stumbled towards her part of the boiler room. She tugged at her hair as the voices rippled through her mind.

_Kill him, baby girl, do what—_

_Yeah, babe, you gotta—_

_Wait, Nancy, don't—_

_Nancy, Nancy, NANCY, its—_

_WAIT, I'M—_

"SHUT UP, PLEASE!" She howled, stumbling to her knees. She crawled into a cool, dim crevice, curling up her knees to her body. Where the hell was figment when she needed him?

* * *

Freddy watched as she stumbled away, wondering what the fuck just happened.

Of all the broads that he killed, it had to be _her _that came back to haunt him. The nutso with the daddy issues, who _set him on fire_, then had the gall to _ignore him_ for years with that fucking Hypnocil shit, who became a _physiatrist of all things,_ and he didn't think there was one thing he hated more than those bastards.

He turned and walked back to his work bench. Let the bitch have her little breakdown. He couldn't fuck with her mind anyway, not right now. _Can't enter the dreams of the dead._ He swore, one more minute with her and he'd figure out how to break that rule.

He sat down to his workbench and twitched his blades, humming to himself, lightly.

He sharpened his index claw, grinning at the deadly point, and tapped his foot.

"Hmmhmm," he growled, his voice raspy, "Wonder what's on TV."

* * *

"You and I gotta talk." She said, swinging her legs on what she considered to be her catwalk. She looked up at figment, who was sitting down slowly beside her, looking as if he'd washed and hung out to dry. She blinked at him, her heavy eyelashes rising up like theater curtains.

"Why am I here?" She asked, and she could hear the answer before he spoke.

"I can't tell you. You've need to figure it out, Nancy." She frowned, and let a tear fall.

"No blubbering." He growled, twitching a claw.

She looked up, surprised. "Hey," she said, remembering all the times Glen had said that to her, when they were kids, playing games in the yard. She'd fall, or get hit, and scrape her knee, and when she'd start to cry he'd just look at her and say, "_Stop blubbering_." And she'd listen, too, cause he was a boy and they knew about being tough, or at least she thought that at the time.

She was tough too, she found out.

She smiled, thinking. She took what she'd learned and put it away, closing her eyes. _That was important_, she thought, _but…_

"I still don't understand." Her voice was much more under control now, and her thoughts were her own. Her mind was cool and dark, and though she felt empty, it was much better than being too full.

She wasn't quite sure how long she sat there, but after a long while she stood and stretched, looking around, frowning. She tapped her toes, and crawled onto the bar of the catwalk, balancing for a moment and looking down. She sighed, pulled up her shirt and inspected her wounds, noticing her skin had taken on a decidedly bluish tent, and she was bleeding darker than before.

"I look like a hamburger."

She sighed again. There were so many things she could do right now, but the only interesting one was the one she really, really didn't want to do. _Really._

She hummed to herself for a moment, and then began to sing a very off-key version of _Thriller. _She pretended not to notice that her feet were leading her to the hottest part of the boiler room.

* * *

See? Sad Nancy makes me sad. Alas, she had to have her little spaz attack sometime, and sooner is better than later. Fair warning, I'm going to be very, very busy soon, moving into Governers School for a month, and though I will do my damndest to write this, I cant gaurentee daily updates. If the lack of crack displeases you, you are welcome to write a dark humor fic of your own. I'll read it with the upmost fangirly pleasure, and send you cyber cookies and shirtless men.

I'm not sending you shirtless Freddy, though. The faces on his chest wont be the only ones that are horrified. Blegh. *shudders*

Review, please! Make my day! (Also, should I do some fanart of Zombie!Nancy and Freddy? I've thought of it, but can't decide. Drop me a review!)


	8. In Which Shrunken Heads Bear Witness

Authors Note: Well, as I mentioned in the last chapter, I went to Governers School for a month. Unfortunaly, I didn't realize at the time exactly how _demanding_ going there would be, and all the writing I was allowed to do was for my assignments. The computers, also, were only used for Acedemic Reasons, and try as I might, I just couldnt get them to agree that NOES was for educational purposes only. But I'm back and fully intending to finish this story.

Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Nancy padded up behind Freddy slowly, narrowing her eyes. His gaze was focused on a tiny, cracked TV, with a turn dial knob and what appeared to be a pair of shrunken heads pierced on a set of shiny rabbit ears. She stood behind him silently, and peered at the screen.

"What the hell are you watching?" she let the words fall out of her mouth in shock, moving to stand closer to the screen. The images on the screen were that of low grade porn, though they were intensely detailed and quite appalling.

He jerked his head to look at her, blades on the defensive. His eyes focused on her face, which was rapt with attention to the twisting limbs on the screen. He found his mouth morphing into a twisted, sneering smile.

"You're pal _Joey's _dreamscape."

She looked at him, momentarily in shock. "Joey? But he was so…" She looked back at the screen, widening her eyes by the smallest fraction. Freddy turned back to it as well.

The heads of both Freddy and Nancy tilted the slightest bit to the left at the exact same moment.

"Is that even possible?" She peered closer. Freddy leered at her from the corner of his eye.

"Wanna try, bitch?" He said lecherously, lazily waggling his tongue at her.

She sneered and sat down on the floor, stretching out her legs. He looked at her, taking in her decaying form with the eyes of one who did not much care what one looked like, as long as it was female.

Her hair was in a tangled mass, matted with blood in the back. Her grey stripe had a few strings of red brown, and he grinned. He remembered the dream he gave that to her. Her skin was tinted grey and her eyes were beginning to sink deeper into their dark sockets. She had scratches, _his scratches,_ ripped into her pink sweater all down her arms, and her death wound had tinted most of the sweater a lovely shade of red-brown. He hummed in approval, tapping his blades on the desk.

She turned her head to look at him in annoyance. "Stop that."

"Stop that." He mocked her, using her voice. She scowled at him, glancing around. She felt… off. She wondered where Figment was, turning her eyes back to the screen. Her mouth quirked up as Joey's grandmother entered the room, turning his dream quickly into a nightmare. Freddy barked a laugh.

She poked her head up, peering over him at his work bench, her eyes scanning over the rickety wooden surface. She frowned fiercely when she saw a bloodstained nightgown, springing to her feet to snatch it up.

"What the hell is this?"

His eyes snapped to hers, claws _shinking_ together at her sudden movement. He sneered at her as she stared at the nightgown, pulling at the bright red stains.

"_Practice_."

Nancy's thoughts tumbled, becoming frantic. She looked over Freddy's head, only to find her figment sitting on his workbench, Indian style. He shook his head, looking sadly at her with electric blue eyes.

"We tried to tell you."

She threw the nightgown at them. "_Bullshit_!"

Freddy stood, slowly, dragging his claws along the surface of the desk. His hand breezed through Figments leg, letting out tiny wisps of dark smoke as they broke the surface.

"How could you kill her? I woke her up!" She pushed at him with one hand, angrily. He slashed at her.

"Not my fault the bitch fell right back to sleep." He smirked, baring rotten teeth. Figment smiled, briefly, and as Nancy reared back her fist, he faded out of existence.

She could have sworn she heard the voices in her head cheer as her fist made that first, solid contact with that scarred bastards face.

* * *

Oh, my. This is about to get dramatic. Or, they could, as my dear friend Kira-Karix-chan put it, get into an epic game of tonsil hockey. What will it be? DUN DUN DUN.

Review, please!


	9. But She Needs Those Fingers!

AN: Oh, my lord. I'm quite exited abou this one. I think you might be too.

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.

* * *

Her fist and his face collided with a solid thud, Freddy's neck snapping to one side. His left hand flew up to cradle his jaw, while his right made a defensive claw.

Nancy drew back her fist and looked at him, mildly surprised at the power she packed. "Damn."

Freddy slowly turned his head to look at her, lowering his hand and glaring harshly.

"_Run_, _bitch_." He growled at her, slashing suddenly with his clawed hand. Nancy froze briefly, listening to the orchestra of sounds in her mind, swelling and crashing, all yelling _fight fight fight! _She dodged the claws, choosing to listen to the one voice that was exclaiming that being a coward at this time would be better than spending eternity sliced into little Nancy cubes.

She yelped as Freddy's claws slashed inches from her face, ducking under his arm to flee. Her hand snaked into her pocket to retrieve the tiny claw, stabbing at him blindly. Freddy, surprised, crashed into the television set, sending the rabbit ears and shrunken heads flying.

A head rolled to Nancy's feet, giggling nastily through its stitched mouth. She widened her eyes at it, scooping it up and hurling it at Freddy like a baseball. It smacked him in the chest as she turned and ran blindly through the labyrinth of boilers and fire to her side, which she deemed safe. Ish.

Her feet pounded on the catwalks, blood dripping down her face due to the heat. She climbed up, shimmying over bars and under chains, hoping to lose the angry dream demon on her trail.

And somewhere, deep down inside, she felt… alive.

"Where have I been?" she murmured, climbing up another set of stairs, the air around her growing steadily cooler, the light softening and easing her mind. With Freddy out of sight, she sighed with relief and leaned her back on the railing, tossing back her head and closing her eyes.

The screech of metal in front of her caused her eyes to fly open in shock, her body jerking backwards against the rusty bar that was supporting her. Freddy's face turned from malicious to shock as the railing broke, the metal making a high pitched whine as it detached from the other bars. Nancy, surprised and horrified, her arms flying about for a split second, fell off the edge of the catwalk.

She yelped, grabbing at whatever solid surface she could, her fingers scrambling along the smooth bar near the edge.

She took a moment to breathe raggedly, looking up at Freddy with shaky eyes.

"What the hell?" her voice was breathy, and the metal was biting into her fingers. She attempted to pull herself up, swinging her legs and clawing forward.

"Don't look at me, bitch, that was all you." He leered at her, his voice laced with wicked amusement, stepping forward to look down at her dirty, bloody face. He lifted his boot to crush her fingers.

"No! I need those!" She howled at him, moving her hand from the wrath of his boot. She glared at his feet.

"Help me up, you asshole."

He grinned cockily, showing his rotted teeth. He leaned his elbows on another section of railing, resting his head in his clawless hand. Lazily, he looked down at her.

"Don't think so."

She gripped at the dirty railing, her fingers desperately trying to find purchase along the rusty metal. It flaked off, and she watched it flutter downwards. Her mind raced, cursing her lack of upper body strength and the noticeable absence of _anything to grab onto_, _goddamnit._

She scowled, harshly. "Please?" she bit out.

He hummed, tapping his claw on the metal. "For a kiss." His voice sounded like rocks rubbing together as he leered at her, smiling nastily at the look on her face.

She looked down, wondering how much pain breaking her legs would cause if she was dead. Couldn't be that much, right? She bit her lip, thinking then about how hard it would be to walk around with broken legs. _Take good care of your body, _her mother picked at her, _its gotta last you a while._ She cursed her luck and the lack of duct tape in the boiler room, and opened her mouth to seal her doom.

"Sure."

* * *

Woah! Okay, let me warn you once again: I haven't a romantic bone in my body. This will not be lovey dovey. Plus, its Freddy and Nancy. What are you expecting, an epic smut-filled romance? In your dreams.

Ha ha. Ha. Okay, lame. No more dream jokes. I get it. *sigh* Please leave a review! Not only do they make my day, but they help me figure out where this oddball bit of nonsense is going! So, review!


	10. Put That in Your Pipe and Smoke It

Authors Note: My first kiss scene... ever. And its _gah-rooossss._ Anywho, I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Freddy clapped his hands together in mock cheerfulness. "Oh, goody." He leaned down and gripped her lower arms, grunting as he pulled her up.

"Jesus woman," he snarled as he pulled her to her feet. "You weigh a goddamn ton."

Her knee banged solidly on the catwalk and she stumbled forward. "I'm a corpse. Dead weight." She put her hand against the boiler, steadying herself. She looked at him and he opened his arms, smiling like a molding, rotten Cheshire cat who had just eaten an entire flock of canaries.

She held up her hand. "Give me a moment," she said as icily as possible.

He smiled wider, flicking out his tongue to lick his lips. "Take your time."

_If I weren't dead, _she thought, _I'd throw up._ She took her hand off the boiler and wiped her face with it. She looked down at her sweater, tugging on the end, then back up at Freddy.

She stepped forward. "Alright. Let's do this."

He made no moves toward her, only crooking a clawed finger at her in a sick parody of some fifties Hollywood starlet. Her face twisted itself into some sort of horrified grimace, her legs moving of their own accord closer to his scarred visage.

His clawed hand snaked around her waist, splaying out on her back like a mutant spider, razors digging into her skin to bring her closer. He made a gravely humming sound and her eyes screwed shut. Her fingers curled into fists by her side as she waited.

His left hand threaded through her hair, tugging lightly to tilt her head back.

Their lips collided together, with a soft scraping sound, Freddy's tongue pushing into her mouth. She squeaked in alarm, ramming her tongue against his, attempting to push it out of her mouth. He made a slight giggling noise, twisting the rough yet slimy appendage around her tongue like a snake, sucking on it. She jerked her head backwards, disconnecting their mouths with a sticky _pop._

He leered down at her as he suddenly licking the side of her face from jaw line to cheek. He put his tongue back in its home and smacked his lips together. "_Yum_."

He let her go, leaning on the railing. She wiped her mouth and cheek with her sleeve, scowling fiercely.

"Ew. You taste like gingivitis and _ass._"

He laughed his nasally laugh, but it died away as he perked his head up, tilting it to one side. "Heeyyy," he growled, looking at Nancy in a hateful, gleeful way. "Your friends are dreamin'."

Her eyes widened, and he raised his claw, wiggling is fingers. "See ya, bitch."

He disappeared before she could move, and she grabbed at the air in vain. "Krueger!" she howled, "Get back here, you _bastard!_ Don't you touch them!"

There was no response in the silent boiler room. Nancy felt the strength drain out of her as she lowered herself to the floor. Her mind felt hollow as Figment stepped out from behind the boiler, his face in disgust and rage.

"That was the single, most disgusting thing you have _ever done!_ What the HELL, girl?" Figments voice shifted between her own, Krueger's, her mothers, Tina's, Glens, and her fathers. She widened her eyes at it, then narrowed them, standing.

"It was better than trying to fight him on two broken legs!"

"He killed us! And you _kissed him! Yuck!_" Her own voice came out in a high pitched whine, reminding her of herself as a child, before Krueger, before high school, hell, before her father left them.

She looked at Figment, staring into her own eyes like a mad cat. "What the hell is going on here, you guys?" She growled it at them, her sharp, icy anger steadily building.

Suddenly, her figment jolted, a flash of light dissolving into it. He brought his clawed hand to his chest, looking at it like it was an alien.

"Now what tha hell—Nancy? I thought you was dead, girl!"

"… Kincaid?" she asked in a small voice.

Figment shook his head, as if dislodging water from his ear. "Shut up." He growled in her voice, and then stared at Nancy.

"One down, two to go." He said, hollowly.

* * *

Drama! Action! Adventure! Se- wait, no sex, but you get the point! I hope you like this chapter, and all its tingly, adult type touching goodness!

Aha. Hehe. Review, please!


	11. In Which Shirtless Freddy is Shirtless

Authors Note: Wow. Okay, here we are at chapter 11! Are you exited? Are you confused? Are you craving some cheese? You bet your sweet ass you are. Now, on to the story! Please, tell me what you think in a review.

Especially the last bit. _I love the last bit._

* * *

"I'm not crazy, am I?" Nancy folded her arms across her slightly damp sweater. The thing was in poor shape, baggy and beaten, and the once frothy pink fabric was fraying and stained with dead blood. She was sure the rest of her was in the same condition, if her lacerated arms were anything to go by. _I would kill for a bath,_ she thought, staring at Figment in a cold, hateful way.

He frowned and turned from her, glaring at the catwalk as if it had committed some heinous crime.

"You have to tell me what's going on," she seethed, pulling at her hair and cursing the fact that her vicious tugging didn't sting like it should have. "He's killing people, and I've gotta stop him!"

Figment growled, looking at her from under the brim of the fedora. "_Why?_ You two looked pretty cozy together, a moment ago." His voice came out in a high pitched whine, which she recognized immediately.

"Don't you give me that shit, _mother_! This isn't just about you! There are _kids _out there! And he's _murdering them!"_ She brought the end of her speech to a howl, pushing through Figment, sending off wisps of black smoke and bright light. She stomped to the edge of the catwalk, causing the metal to jar and clang, and then looked back at Figment, whose many emotions splayed dangerously across his feminine, scarred face.

"You all don't have to help me." Her voice was ice, her mind hollow and clear. "I'll find him, and do this on my own if I have to."

With that, the dead woman disappeared into the world of heated, smoking air and clanking chains, her blood slowly heating up and dripping down her dirty, grey face.

* * *

He was ringing out his sweater when she emerged from the darkened flames of the boiler room. The water hit the ground in quick succession, the wet splats ringing through her ears. He was turned away from her, displaying the labyrinthine twists of melted flesh along his back, twisting the sweater casually and jerking his head, trying to dislodge the water from his ears.

She took a step forward, quietly palming the small razor in her hand.

"You killed Kincaid." Her voice sounded terribly hollow, even to herself.

His head swiveled around, claws at the ready, cigarette hanging low and smoking from his burnt lips. As he smiled and spoke, its stained form bounced and giggled, sprinkling ash onto the wet floor.

"More than that, bitch." He turned, slinging his sweater over a bar with a wet _snap._

_Joey_. She crossed her arms over her chest, and set about looking at him in a cold fury. However, her eyes got side tracked. For a moment, she stared confusedly at his chest, cocking her head.

He lowered his eyelids, staring at her like someone you really ought to alert the flight attendant about, before growling out, "Like what you see?" and laughing nasally.

Her eyes snapped up to his, and she allowed her mouth to quirk up into a small, disgusted smile. "Where are the, ah…" she said, waving her hand vaguely at her chest, "Face tumors?"

He frowned and glared, tapping his claws on the bare flesh of his chest. "Mmm," he hummed darkly, showing her his rotting teeth, "Wouldn't you like to know."

She snorted, wiping a drop of rolling blackened blood from her cheek. She leaned against a boiler, taking care to hide the glint of the metal claw in her hand from the madman.

She looked at him calmly, watching as he snuffed out the cigarette and pulled back on his sweater. She tilted her head to the side, lowering her thick eyelashes.

"Krueger." Her voice was very cold, and his eyes latched on to hers. "Why do you think I'm here?"

"Well, you see, bitch, when a mommy and a daddy love each other _very much,_" he said in his very best high pitched parent voice, only for her to roll her eyes at him, exasperated.

"Shut up. I mean, _why?_" She growled, reaching her hand up to tug on her tangled mass of hair. He was very near her now, dragging his claws along the metal, sending up an all too familiar high pitched screech into the air. Dark red light danced along the framework of the boiler room, glinting off chains and metal, and casting dark shadows over the demon and the dead girl.

" You can't fucking kill me, _Nancy." _His raspy voice snaked its way into her ear, and she smiled.

"The way I figure," she said, as he caught sight of the tiny blade in her hand, "I don't need to kill you. Just keep you incapacitated for a while."

Before the blade could swing up to his throat, however, he slammed his body against hers. The metal burned into her back with a not-quite-pain, but she screeched and jerked against him, pushing at him with all her strength. He pinned her arm against the boilers hot surface, listening to the small sizzle her flesh made, and removing the claw delicately from dead, manicured fingers. She pushed at him with her whole body, absently realizing that this was probably not the best idea in the world due to his sickly contented humming.

He watched the sizzling, burning flesh of the back of her hand for a moment longer, then glanced down at their bodies, intertwined and distinctly dead, the fabrics of their shirts rubbing together like sheets after a house fire. He snickered and looked her in the eye.

"Hot, huh?"

Before she could reply, his free hand was in her hair and he had slammed her already severely damaged skull against the hard metal, and her vision faded into blackness.

* * *

Me: Does she want his booody, does she think he's seexxyyy, come on darlin' let him know!

Zombie!Nancy: *thwack* Shut the fuck up!

Okay, okay. No more sillyness. What did you think? I'm exited about this, and I want it to finish in the next couple of chapters, so please, give me all the info you can. Cheers!


	12. Ten Points to Gryffindor

Authors Note: So, I turn 18 in about three hours. I will be a legal, full fledged adult, with all the lovely, adult like responsibilities that come with it. I'll be able to vote, buy cigarettes, lotto tickets, and porn. Guess which one I'm most exited about?

Thats right.

Lotto tickets.

Anywho, I thought I'd write myself a bit of an early birthday present, or give a gift to all you folks out there who celebrate Yule. So, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and Happy Solstice all!

Also, all bits of what-the-fuckery of this chapter are due to a slightly severe dream I had involving Krueger and a bottle of ketchup. The rest is history.

* * *

Nancy forced her eyes open, ignoring the feeling of blood dripping into her nostrils. One eye, it seemed, was glued shut with dried blood and eye gunk, and no amount of eyebrow tugging was going to force it open. She looked around with her good eye, swiveling it downwards to look at her feet.

Or, upwards, since she was hanging, once again, by her feet, this time in chains. Her arms were bound, preventing her from scratching her nose, or, god forbid, peeling the gunk off of her eye.

She wiggled her feet, realizing not so merrily that one of her shoes was _missing._

Her eye slid over her feet, down her chest bound in chains, then back to her bare foot.

Suddenly, her eye widened, registering the fact that something was really, very wrong there, and maybe she should start screaming soon, because where she had five toes on her foot earlier, _there were four toes now._

"_YOU ATE MY TOE, YOU RAT BASTARD_!" She wailed, not particularly caring if cannibalism was the actual fate of her dear beloved toe, but it was the principle of the matter, and he _cut off her fucking toe how dare he._

She heard footsteps down below, and swiveled her good, teary eye at the noisemaker.

Figment looked up at her with pity. "Meeting didn't go so well, I take it?"

She swung there, in chains, looking down at him with blood, tears, and snot streaming into her hair.

"He ate my toe." She mumbled, rolling her eye up to look at her dismembered foot in horror and confusion.

"No, he didn't. You're delirious."

She looked at him with hope shining in her bloodshot, cloudy blue eye. "So my toes not gone?" Her voice cracked like the pages of an old, dry book.

Figment glared. "Of course it's gone. But he didn't eat it, you crazy bitch."

"Oh." Her lip quivered, and she tried to wiggle her fingers. From where she was hanging, she could see the coldest part of the boiler room, cool and blue, dust motes flickering lazily, waiting for her to return to their stagnation. If she swiveled the other way, she could see the fires raging, licking at every surface and roaring their discontent, hot water steaming and dripping on the dirty concrete.

She stretched her arms as far as she could, chain links biting into her flesh with no sensation. She began to struggle briefly. Soon she gave up, looking down at the man-shaped creature below her.

"A little help, please?"

He looked up at her, splaying his hands apart in a '_what can I do_?' gesture.

"Smoke and mirrors, bitch. I'm nothing without you."

"Ah. Well, then, isn't that nice? I'm just gonna swing here until that toe thieving _bastard_ butchers another batch of innocent kids?"

"Unless you can find a way out of the mess you got yourself into, _that's exactly_ what the fuck I'm saying."

"_I got myself into?"_

"You're the one who went off and got all _buddy buddy_ with him, Nancy. You're going to risk everything we've done for you!" He roared, slashing his claws through the air. They both tried to ignore the sounds of screaming, a wailing that filled the boiler room like a scalded cat, intruding in Nancy's mind like a needle. She fought back against it, yelling at the figment below her.

"Well, if you want me to know what to do, you're going to have to explain the goddamn situation, asshole!"

They both paused, seething. It was clear now to Nancy that something larger than her was happening, something that she didn't exactly want to face. She wasn't sure where she stood in the game that was afoot; was she a lethal knight or a pawn to be sacrificed?

Either way, she was chained to the ceiling, at the mercy of a blade wielding nut job with a thirst for human appendages that did absolutely nothing _to him._

She shut her eye, breathing harshly through her nose. She cracked it open, focusing in on the chains she found herself in, feeling with her fingertips, pushing against them, feeling for weak spots.

A few minutes later, she conceded defeat with a grunt of anger.

"Ten points for creativity, Krueger," she mumbled, shutting her eye until the toe eating bastard reemerged.

* * *

Let me say it again; he had a bottle of ketchup. What did you think I ment?

Also, I found a book that startled me out of my Freddy related writers block: Wes Cravens New Nightmare, by David Bergantino. Its a film novelization, and not a bad one! I'd recomend it to any Freddy fans out there... Or to anyone with a sick sense of humor, really.

Also, should I write you all a christmas fic? I've been thinking so...

Review, please? If only to tell me happy birthday... :D Seriously. Reviews are like little gifts I must click to unwrap.


	13. A Meeting With the Boss

Authors Note: I realize that the last time I uploaded was in December, my birthday. I'm going to skip all the excuses and say that I'm sorry, but I've graduated now, and really am anxious to finish this story. We've been apart too long.

Also, I re-read the earlier chapters. Should I re-write them and re-upload, or leave them be? I'm quite fond of them the way they are. I think it shows progress. But I want you guys to like them, too. Let me know, kay?

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Nancy heard the scream of her only living friend right before she felt the impact of her death, the sudden shift in Kristen's power causing a slight rumble that shook the core of the boiler room. With her death the fire spread, disease like, slithering its way into the cool blue silence beyond it, scorching the edges of the metal framework. Her chains shook, and she cast her worried eye at the rusty links that were the only thing keeping her corpse swinging. The rust flaked down innocently, and the chains made a slight moan in protest.

She attempted to spin herself around, but like a small child on a swing set, the links spun her right back in place. She was left with a dizzy sensation, and she looked down, staring intently with her one good eye at the concrete below her. To her despair, her friend's death had started a chain reaction, and she felt something in the air—a spark, she thought randomly, sticking out her tongue to taste the difference, the acrid change in the air. She giggled, the blood in her throat gurgling as she felt a sudden electric tingle drift over her scalp.

Her mind suddenly raced, and she knew that Figment had joined her. She was becoming aware of their intrusion; when she was herself, her mind felt slow and cool, rolling slow like the dead blood clogging her veins, and she despaired at her situation, because she knew she was empty and hollow. When she was joined by them, the fragments of souls siphoned from her friends and family, she felt overflowing, like the rolling tide, electric and uncomfortable. She wished she could simply take back the piece of Figment that was hers, her spark that chipped loose before her death like a hang nail, and depart from this dead world whole.

The voices in her head battled for her attention, and she closed her eye. She needed to discuss the details of her situation with the person in charge, and it needed to happen now. So she focused, ramming her eyes closed to block out the flickering flames below her, blocking out the noise of the functioning boiler room, the clink of her chains, the mad cackling laughter of the murderer.

She was standing at the door of her office, the only place in her brief life she felt she had any power. She twisted the knob slowly, acknowledging that she could still feel and hear everything in the boiler room, but the voices in her head were the most important factor at the moment.

The room, blurry around the edges and poorly put together, was filled with fragmented souls. They hovered there, bumping into the décor and stared at her as she entered, or, she assumed they stared, as they had no faces. They were bits of light in her mind's eye, small, misty things like spider webs in the sunlight. The waited like hungry dogs as she walked around her desk, waving her hand to dislodge one sitting down in the plush rolling chair before plopping down.

The sudden barrage of voices in the room made the souls jitter and swell like hornets, jerking side to side, their spider web filigree winding into the other orbs as they fought to be the loudest.

"SHUT UP!" She howled, slamming her fist on her imaginary desk. The souls silenced, still buzzing like houseflies, filling the room with energy and light.

"Which one of you…" She began, not knowing quite how to phrase her next sentence. _Which one of you is the leader?_ No, that wouldn't do—they would all explode at the idea of being the top dog. _Where is Figment?_ No, she thought, they are all bits of him, and she had a feeling that they wouldn't answer vague questions well.

"I want to speak with Nancy. I want to speak with the first soul to come here. Now." Her voice had a power to it, and she watched as the brightest orb flung itself down from the ceiling, its light wrapping around the fibers in the carpet like tentacles and anchoring itself there. She watched as it wrapped itself tighter and tighter into a shape, like the shrouds of a mummy, until it darkened and filled out in flesh. She was staring at herself—a young, spry, vibrant version of herself, with electric blue eyes and glowing, smooth skin, rich hair and thick eyebrows. Nancy smiled at the sight, refusing to look down at the old, decaying form she held now, with crow's feet and moldering wounds.

"Hello, Nancy." Her soul's voice was rich and powerful, and she noticed the contrast between them; her own voice sounded dry and raspy, dead like her vocal cords.

"Hello. It's nice to see you again." And it was, she knew it; she had been gone for too long, without her spark that made her feel and fight like the woman she was. She missed it, smiling, unwittingly showing her blackened, plaque covered teeth.

Her soul nodded, looking around. "It is good to be home, if only for a moment. We have a lot to talk about."

Nancy nodded, and waited for the answers she craved.

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A/N: I suppose that you noticed the distinct lack of Freddy in this chapter. It will be remedied, I assure you. However, I think Nancy deserves some alone time in her happy, soul ridden place while Freddy gets to wreak havoc on Alice and her friends, don't you?

And I'm sure you all are still wondering what became our dear Nancy's poor pinky toe. I just wanted to let you know that Freddy freed it from its life of shoe filled oppression, and it is now living happily in a condo with its friend the sock. They couldn't be happier.

Please, let me know what you think. I encourage you to re-read the earlier chapters to get a feel for the story again, since I'm uploading it after so long. Cause I'm an ass like that. :D

Until then, I shall wrap myself in dreams and death, waiting solemnly for your precious reviews.


	14. Of Souls and Disgusting Visuals

A/N: It has been way to long since I uploaded. I couldn't help putting this chapter off. The concepts were really hard to work out. Writing this story, I had a general Idea of what was happening, but the plot couldn't work until I had the specifics worked out, and that took effort. Which, as you should now know, is really not fun when your trying to write something quickly.

So, without further adieu, I give you a very complicated chapter. I hope you can understand it, cause it was very confusing to write.

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Nancy's soul, vibrant and powerful, stood before the decaying form the rest of her had become in her absence. She looked down at the seeping wounds, the near sagging flesh, and the hollow, tired eyes that her body had become, and ached to be home and one with herself again.

"When you killed him, that first time, you didn't just kill him." She started, figuring out a way to explain the complicated mess her life had become once Krueger entered the picture.

Nancy frowned at her figment. Her soul. They were one in the same, she knew, but they were so different now, apart from each other. "Yeah, I got that. Cause he didn't die, did he? He's still alive, fucking with people and killing children."

"_No,_ it's not that." Her soul struggled to find the words, and the fragments around her buzzed and shook against the imaginary room they were held in. "You took his power away. You… absorbed it, all of it, but it didn't have anywhere to go." She looked at Nancy, desperate. "It shook us, _and it hurt_, and slowly I broke off of you. Like a hangnail, but you didn't notice it."

"You… you left me?" Nancy couldn't bring herself to feel anger. Confusion rattled her, and somewhere in the distance she heard the sounds of cackling laughter, dark and hideous, and felt the spurts of flame that were rising around her.

"No. Well, sort of. I… I started collecting."

At this, Nancy's eyes snapped to the balls of fabric and light that were squabbling around the room. Some seemed to be intensely focused on the conversation, giving off the eerie vibe of staring intently at her. Others, it seemed, were fighting with one another, like playful dogs, wrapping their light around one another and pulling, flipping and climbing over the walls and chairs.

"I cracked their souls, Nancy. I took bits of them, our friends, so I wouldn't be alone. So next time, when we fought him, _we would have a chance._"

The full implications of her words struck Nancy like a truck to the chest.

"_Jesus,_ how could you do that?" The anger Nancy couldn't feel earlier bounded up inside her like a tidal wave, crashing in her throat. She wanted to cry, but her tear ducts were caked with blood and mucus. "They could have gone to heaven!"

"No." The figment looked tired, staring at Nancy with vibrant blue eyes and a mournful expression. "They couldn't. Not while he's alive. That's why we have to kill him, Nancy."

The horror in her chest deepened. Her eyes cast around the room, searching for something she needed not to be true. "Why did you look like him."

"What?"

Her dead eyes flashed at the glowing figment in front of her. Her voice was hard, demanding. "When you first came to me, you looked like him. _Why did you look like him."_

"I needed the power, Nancy, you have to understand. _We_ needed it, to kill him once and for all. So I took it."

Her figments hands lifted to her chest, hands folded over the space between her breasts, and she grimaced as she _pulled. _Something dark, writhing like an oily beast in her hands, clawed and ripped its way out of her chest, with the terrible sound of veins and sinew snapping. In her souls hands, lay a heart, black as pitch and gleaming, veins writhing around it like tentacles. There was a hole in her soul's chest, gaping and black as pitch, and she looked weak and distraught.

"I stole it."

As Nancy looked at the piece Freddy's soul in front of her, she had the irresistible urge to laugh and vomit at the same time. She looked at all the souls around her, small pieces of all the people she had ever cared about, and decided.

"All right, then. How do we—"

"_Hey, bitch. Wake the fuck up._"

Nancy's eye flew open, revealing a very burned man below her, glaring up at her angrily.

"Hey! I was in the middle of something!" Her throat burned pleasantly, and she savored the sensation of being able to feel anything, even if it was pain. The chains that bound her cut into her numb skin, and as much as she attempted, she couldn't coax her other eye into opening. It was crusted shut.

He looked annoyed and confused. "Crazy bitch." He walked underneath a catwalk, out of her swinging view, and slammed his clawed hand down on a leaver. Suddenly, she dropped from the sky, causing her to shriek like a little girl. The awful falling sensation lasted long after she slammed against the ground, her skull cracking painfully against the hard concrete, and she could feel the vertebra shatter against the floor. To top it all off, she couldn't seem to control the sounds she was making. Noises seemed to be coming out of her that were reminiscent of the moans of a dying moose.

"Oh, shut up, bitch. You're already dead, remember? You got nothing to worry about." He smiled nastily, lifting her up to unwind the chains, laughing nasally at her terrified expression.

"Whats the matter, Nancy?" He ran a claw over her bloodied face, tapping her on the nose. His voice shifted to a low, mocking growl. "Fallin for me?"

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Okay, so I hope I never have to write two Nancy's in the same room again, _ever._ I couldn't seem to keep them straight, and they're different in such subtle ways. Think of it as grown up Nancy and young Nancy. Here's as good of an explanation as I can give without being a big ole spoiler.

So Nancy, in the first movie, took all the power from Freddy, effectively killing him. But there was too much power, and her soul, Figment, absorbed it, breaking off from the rest of her. She was scared, lonely, and angry. She found the souls Freddy stole, and while he was weak broke bits off of them, but they wouldn't stay with her because she didn't have enough control. So she broke off a piece of his soul, and plans to use the power she now has to kill him.

So yeah, that's confusing.

Also, upon request, there will be another kiss scene. Smoochie smoochie times are ahead. The sexual tension abounds as Freddy's boner for murder goes un-sated.

Dear lord, did I just say that?

REVIEW? PLEASE?


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